


Wicked Men and Fools

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe, Inspired by a Movie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles expects nothing more than a meal and maybe a place to crash for the night when he visits his uncle on his long-planned post-graduation road trip. Of course, that's only the start of his problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Men and Fools

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Disney's "Kidnapped" for the Teen Wolf Everafter challenge over on lj. Title from a quote from the book.

Stiles barely dared breathe as the hunter circled the rock he and Derek were currently lying on top of. Hiding on top of, tucked in a shallow depression, huddled together. Stiles heard them shouting to each other, heard the click of their guns, heard them sharpening their knives but he kept his eyes screwed shut. He could feel Derek’s arm around his waist, warm and solid, keeping him close.

They weren’t supposed to be close like this. Stiles had been trying to stay away. But here he was, curled up close with Derek, breathing in his warm, oddly sweet scent and feeling the strength of his body – which Stiles had admired, at length, whenever Derek stripped off his shirt – and it wasn’t exactly time to enjoy it all.

Stiles had not quite expected this when he’d set off from home and headed off for his big adventure – the adventure that would make him more of an adult, ready for college and responsibility and a life outside of his tiny town. He knew about the struggles between werewolves and hunters but thought it something long gone, far removed from him. Of course the betrayal of his uncle had made it his more immediate problem.

Stiles buried his head in Derek’s shoulder to muffle a yawn. It was hot out here, exposed as they were, the sun directly overhead. And he had been running something of a marathon, sprinting across fields, fleeing. Derek rubbed his cheek over Stiles’ hair, probably unconsciously, and Stiles settled down again.

They had been moving pretty quickly, he supposed. Ever since the death of Victoria Argent.

 

Stiles hadn’t known that he had an uncle until he had proposed heading off on his own to his dad at the end of school. “To widen my horizons.”

“This has nothing to do with the fact Lydia turned you down pretty finally. And Scott has his job and his own love life, eh?” His dad peered a little too sharply across the table before putting his knife and fork down and straightening up. “I think it’d be good for you.”

“That I have no friends and no life?” Stiles reached up and patted his dad on the shoulder, a mite sarcastically. “Thanks for your faith in me.”

“You should be nicer to the person who’s paying for your gas money.” His dad forked a mouthful of eggs into his mouth. “And contributing to your motel bill.”

Stiles let out a whoop and headed up the stairs to hit the computer and start planning his route. 

“I’ve got something I need you to do in return, Stiles.” His dad’s voice changed, going from his usual mocking of Stiles tone to something serious and a little worried. “I think it’s about time you met your uncle.”

 

Stiles woke out of his doze to Derek shaking him. He started to speak but Derek’s broad hand across his mouth stopped him. He resisted the urge to stick out his tongue and lick it. It wasn’t really the time. His half-asleep brain provided other situations about when – and where – it would be more appropriate to lick Derek. That brought Stiles all the way awake.

It was later in the day, the sun starting to dip towards the horizon. He could hear the hunters talking below him.

Derek met his eyes and moved closer to Stiles’ ear. “They’re setting up camp.” Stiles nodded to show his understanding. He eased his leg out of the bend it was in slowly, trying to relieve the cramp in his muscle. Instead, Derek’s hand pulled Stiles’ leg across his thighs and his warm fingers massaged the stiff muscle. Stiles bit his lips to hide the groan he wanted to let out. Having to keep this still, this quiet, was weirdly easy. He’d never found it easy before, not in school nor at home. But Derek’s presence seemed to soothe him, almost.

Derek shouldn’t. He was a werewolf. A creature of evil, according to the hunter propaganda Stiles had been hearing all through his lifetime, ever since werewolves revealed themselves to the world at large.

Stiles wondered why Derek had this effect on him? 

 

His uncle had the opposite effect on Stiles, driving him a little crazy. He was a lean, hard man, whip thin where his dad was muscles. Stiles rethought his healthy eating drive and resolved to ensure his dad kept his soft edges. His uncle’s eyes were a cold blue to his father’s warm ocean and Stiles knew that he probably should keep going. But his dad had asked him to check in on his uncle, see how he was and introduce himself.

Stiles was aware of the man’s keen scrutiny as he handed over the letter his father had written. He had manage to resist the urge to read it but he found himself unable to stop tapping his foot against the floor.

Over dinner – some kind of half-cold meat and potatoes – Stiles found himself equally unable to stop. His uncle – who shared the family tradition of traditional Russian-origin names but had been blessed with Vladimir – glared at him but showed him to a guest bedroom when they finished, claiming Stiles must be tired after his journey.

Stiles wasn’t sure what he expected from this relative he’d never met, wasn’t sure why his dad had even sent him in this general direction but it was when he traipsed downstairs in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water that he was able to put more of a finger on his unease.

His uncle was talking to someone on his laptop, the study dark around him. Stiles was being quiet – it was the middle of the night – and he was almost to the door before he realized that his uncle wasn’t safely tucked up in bed but was in the middle of a quiet argument.

“I’ll get the supplies to you. But I’ll have to be late. My nephew just showed up out of nowhere.” Stiles couldn’t hear the reply from the computer clearly but he heard the next words crystal. “I know. I would just get rid of him but his dad’s some kind of cop. Would lead to too many questions.”

Stiles crept back to his bedroom, all thoughts of thirst forgotten. He lay down, pulling the blankets up around his ears to hide the fact he was lying there, wide awake, the snippet of conversation running through his mind. He listened to his uncle climb the stairs, use the bathroom, close his bedroom door. Stiles counted under his breath, keeping his breathing slow and even as he waited. When he thought he’d given his uncle enough time to fall asleep, he grabbed his phone and crept out of his room.

Instead of freezing outside his study, Stiles slipped inside. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for but he started with the papers on his uncle’s desk, hoping something would jump out at him. No luck. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was all just bills and junk mail. Stiles didn’t dare turn on the laptop but he sat in the desk chair and spun idly from side to side. 

Stiles knew his dad was basically awesome but there was still something about the fact he was the Sheriff that made Stiles adept at hiding things. It became a weird kind of game, almost. He would think up bizarre hiding places for school reports and snack foods. His dad became quite good at seeking out the chips or the random bars of chocolate Stiles had stashed around the house. It was a game. This was just like this.

Stiles started with the desk – checking the back of drawers and along the sides before sliding his hands under the surface of the desk. He sneered when he came across a package taped to the underside of the desk inside one of the drawers. That was almost amateur in his book. 

Stiles drew out the package. There were bags of flowers and leaves, three or four of them. Some diagrams – he had no idea about what they were trying to be. There were maps with red lines and there was a few pamphlets that basically told Stiles all he needed to know. He knew people didn’t like werewolves – stupid bigots – but this went beyond simple dislike and into serious hate group territory. The idea his uncle was mixed up with one of these anti-werewolf groups made Stiles’ skin crawl. He knew there was something he didn’t like about him.

Stiles drew out his phone and started snapping pictures of the contents of the hidden package. He guessed that the baggies weren’t weed (he knew they weren’t – Scott had smoked enough before he’d been bitten by a rogue for Stiles to know what weed looked like, Sheriff’s kid or not) but supposed they might be wolfsbane. The diagrams were just as impenetrable on a second go over but Stiles dutifully snapped pictures of them too. 

The signal in the house was too weak for him to email them to anyone and it wasn’t like his uncle had handed over his WiFi password but Stiles tried his best to get a text out to his dad. He bit his lip when it wouldn’t send. Stiles hastily reassembled the package, sticking it back inside the desk, when he heard the creak of floorboards from upstairs. He couldn’t stay here now – he needed to get out and get news to someone else. Stiles had no idea what he’d stumbled across but he had the feeling it wasn’t good.

Stiles pressed himself against the wall behind the study door when he heard steps on the stairs, praying his uncle wasn’t going to come in here and see him. He wasn’t exactly dressed for escape, barefoot in a t-shirt and pajama pants. He held his breath as his uncle shuffled past, coughing, and entered the kitchen. Stiles used the noise of the water running to skip back up the stairs and hide himself in the guest room again.

He’d leave straight after breakfast.

 

It was cold when he woke up. His cheeks hurt with the air, chilly despite the fact it was summertime. Stiles knew that no matter how warm it seemed, there was always that time in the middle of the night when the cold seemed determined to seep into his bones. It didn’t help that they were lying on bare rock covered with a thin layer of clothing. 

Derek’s eyes glittered in the starlight. There was no noise around them except for the odd bird, a soft snore from one of the hunters. No more fire at least. Stiles opened his mouth to speak but Derek shifted closer to press a finger to his lips. Derek didn’t open his mouth to tell Stiles to shut up and Stiles realized why when he heard a twig snap. There was still a hunter awake and with all the quiet… Noises travelled for absolute miles at night.

Derek moved his finger away only for his hand to land on Stiles’ shoulder, his hand warm against Stiles’ freezing skin. Then, so slowly it almost wasn’t happening, Derek moved closer, wrapping Stiles up in his arms, pulling Stiles against his body. It was when Stiles’ nose brushed against the searing heat of Derek’s neck that Stiles finally gave in to the embrace and soaked in the warmth Derek emanated. He wanted to moan with how good it felt but muffled the noise in Derek’s skin. Under his mouth, Derek shivered.

 

Leaving in the morning became more difficult than Stiles had expected. His uncle seemed to have had something of a personality shift, being solicitous. “Would you like some more eggs?”

“No. No, thanks.” Stiles pasted on a grin. “I should just get going.”

“I should learn more about you, Stiles. Find out more about how your father is getting on.” His uncle refilled Stiles’ coffee mug, leaning over the table. Stiles gripped the edge before he gave in to the urge to try and slide away. It took a lot of willpower.

Stiles answered questions as quickly as he could while interspersing his answers with references to the distance he had to cover, where he wanted to go, the fact he was on a road trip… His uncle was either impervious to the increasingly obvious hints or was up to something. Stiles had his money on the latter.

There was a knock on the door while Stiles was explaining lacrosse – and, man, did he want to forget most of his ignominious career on that pitch – and Stiles took the opportunity to get to his feet. He didn’t want to be rude but he had to get out of the house and get to somewhere with decent cell reception. His dad would know what to do.

Instead the man who stepped into the kitchen seemed disinterested in letting Stiles go at all. “Who’s this?”

“My nephew.” The tone with which his uncle spoke suggested Stiles was a harmless idiot. “Forget him.”

Stiles bent his head over his coffee, watching the man out of the corner of his eye. His uncle took the man into the hallway but Stiles could still hear fragments of the conversation, the odd mention of “fugitive” and he heard his uncle call the man “Argent.”

The back door was open behind him and Stiles decided he couldn’t wait any more. He decided he could always buy a new phone charger and clothes and barreled out of the door, heading for his jeep. Naturally, his jeep was blocked in by the other cars. Stiles swore, frozen in panic, until he heard the tramp of feet and shouts from behind him. Stiles paused for another moment before he took off, running into the woods behind the house. He concentrated on keeping his feet under him and not letting branches slap into his face, trying not to think about the shouts from behind him.

Stiles ran until the pain in his side forced him to slow down. It was only when his panting quieted into smoother, panicked breaths that he realized that the sounds of pursuit were far in the distance. Stiles pulled out his phone to see that the faint glimmers of reception he’d had at the house were totally gone. Stiles pushed himself up and concentrated now on being quiet as he kept walking, sweat cooling rapidly. He had to come to a road sometime.

 

Derek was shaking him, a hand firmly clasped on his shoulder. Stiles jerked at the movement but managed to stifle his instinct to ask what was going on. He leaned against Derek, still grateful for his warmth and tried to will away the natural reaction his dick was having to the fact another warm body was pressed against him. Hopefully Derek wouldn’t notice.

Derek grinned at him and Stiles knew he was blushing. Then he heard the noise of the hunters also waking up. Under the cover of their shouts, Derek leaned closer and whispered directly into Stiles’ ear again, his breath caressing. “They sound like they’re going.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and kicked Derek’s skin. He could work that out for himself. He expected Derek to pull back but Derek kept his head close, their bodies tangled together and when Stiles turned his head to look at Derek, Derek was looking right back. Hoping he’d read the moment right, Stiles leaned forward and brushed his lips against Derek’s mouth. He knew his morning breath would be poisonous and he knew he probably smelled rank what with the running and hiding and lack of anything approaching clean clothing. But none of that mattered when Derek kissed back, nothing more than a hesitant move of their mouths.

Derek pulled back enough to look at Stiles and smile. It was nothing more than a tight grimace, totally in keeping with the fact that they were basically trapped on top of a big rock by guys who wanted to kill them both. But the seriousness with which Derek smiled just made Stiles roll against Derek and hold him close.

He started to believe that they were going to be all right.

 

The woods behind his uncle’s house were not particularly forthcoming with any road. There wasn’t even any tracks bigger than the odd deer path. Stiles kept walking though, stripping off his shirt and tying it around his waist to keep himself a little cool as the sun got higher and higher in the sky. He was start to wonder about streams and the viability of drinking from them when he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps.

Stiles froze in place, wondering if ducking behind a tree was smart or just ridiculous. Maybe he’d be less noticeable if he dropped to the forest floor. He waited too long to make a decision. A strong arm wrapped itself around his throat and he was pulled back against another person. A man, he decided, after wriggling futilely for a moment. 

“Who are you?” The voice was dangerous but lighter than Stiles had expected, intense but not old and worn out. Best of all, it wasn’t his uncle or the man he’d called Argent.

“Who are you?” Stiles retorted, relaxing a little. Admittedly, there was very little to relax about. The guy tightened his hold. Stiles froze in place, hearing people moving through the woods and the faint but definite bark of dogs. “Shit,” he muttered.

“They’re after you?” The arm around his throat loosened. “Why?”

“I kinda-“ Stiles stepped away enough to turn and look at his captor. Words stopped flowing through Stiles’ mind for a moment as he took in the broad shoulders, narrow waist, biceps, muscles on muscles, and the _face_ \- stubble, eyebrows, the fine aquiline nose and the focused, intent eyes – that topped it all off. “It’s complicated,” he ended up saying, lamely.

“They’re hunters,” the guy told him, cocking his head to one side. 

“I know. They’re definitely ready to wipe out a few werewolves. But I’m not one.” Stiles jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “But I think they’d like to wipe me out anyway. Not too fussy.”

His captor – the guy – whatever - looked at him for a long moment before his nostrils flared like he was scenting Stiles. Then he nodded. “You’ve handled wolfsbane recently though.”

“My uncle had some, I think. In his desk.” Then what the guy said caught up with Stiles. “You can smell that? So you’re…?”

“Derek. Werewolf.” The guy held out his hand and Stiles shook it, working on auto-pilot.

“Stiles. Don’t ask. Human.” 

 

Derek kept Stiles pinned flat on the rock as the sounds of the hunters moved away. Every so often he whispered into Stiles’ ear to let him know what they were saying. There was the sound of a quad bike or two, buzzing and roaring up the hill towards them. But, as the sun rose up high above them, Stiles didn’t feel uncomfortable or scared. Pretty much the only thing he felt now was a vague urgency and a whole lot of horniness.

“Are they gone yet?” he whined. Derek huffed a laugh into Stiles’ hair at that and Stiles ground his hips against Derek, making him huff another sound, a much more turned on one. Which was good, because Stiles was all systems go, fuck the hunters and time for orgasms. And he knew Derek knew it. He also didn’t want to die a virgin and it seemed like he might be able to get someone as hot as Derek to touch his dick and Stiles was suddenly a bundle of nerves. What if Derek didn’t like it? What if he was no good?

Some part of his brain was laughing at him being so distracted from the fact that his life was in danger and here he was, more concerned about sex but Stiles firmly clamped down on that. It did make him reassess his priorities a little. This hard rock was probably not the best place for them to fuck on. He was sweaty and gross and probably smelled rank after his whole wilderness adventure thing. So a shower would be good. And a bed. And lube – he was not letting Derek’s dick anywhere near his ass without lube. Fingers would be okay with spit though. And there was his brain, laughing away merrily again.

“I think they’ve gone,” Derek told him. “Stay here.”

Stiles nodded vaguely as Derek raised up and slipped over the side of the boulder. Stiles stretched out, ignoring the way his hips protested the movement and his back screamed bloody murder for a moment. It felt good as well. It was even better when Derek poked his head over the side of the rock. “We’re good. Let’s go.”

Stiles blushed a little as Derek helped him down, winced as the feeling came back into his feet, but soon he and Derek were making their way far, far away from that blasted rock and the tire tracks that surrounded its base.

 

Derek led Stiles on a much more sure-footed path through the woods, splashing through streams now and again and changing direction. He definitely seemed to have a destination in mind from the way he would catch Stiles’ elbow and direct him. Stiles felt nothing as much as a whole lot of relief that someone else was in charge and that someone seemed to know what they were doing.

He should, he thought, perhaps be more worried about the whole werewolf thing. But he was working on the presumption that since the people who wanted to kill him were anti-werewolf, having someone pro-werewolf would work in his favor. On the other hand, whenever he tried to ask Derek where they were going or, basically, speak to him, Derek shut him down with a cutting motion and a glare. A very effective glare. With very effective eyebrows. 

Eventually they stumbled out of the woods and onto a wide, open field. Or, not a field. A wide open grassland. There were even cows. 

“Shit,” Derek muttered, his eyes darting from side to side.

“I thought you knew where you were going.” Stiles tried not to sound too accusing, but all the panic that linking up with Derek had diminished roared back with a vengeance. “Look, if we get to a road. Or a place where I can call my dad. Or civilization?”

Derek looked a little despairing before he pasted on a mask of cool disdain. “We’re miles from anywhere. But I know a place that’s a couple of days walk at your pace.”

“And this place has indoor plumbing and an internet connection? Or is it, like, a cave? Because I wouldn’t put that past you.” Stiles tried to calm his heartbeat. He could feel it racing, pushing up against his ribcage. There was also the tightness in his throat that suggested he wasn’t finding it easy to breath and a certain hint of shadow at the corner of his eyes. He knew what that meant and he was determined not to fall into the grasp of a panic attack.

Derek slowly wrapped his fingers around Stiles’ wrist. “Hey,” he said softly. Stiles met his eyes and nodded.

They took off across the field, fast as they could.

 

It did take them days. Stiles almost moaned aloud when they came over the crest of the hill and saw a cabin tucked into a curve of the valley. There was a sharp smell of wood smoke on the air and he could see electric light and a car and electricity cables. Derek quirked an eyebrow at him and Stiles shoved at him. Then they made their way down the final hill towards the house.

Derek knocked cautiously, his shoulders a tense line and one hand hovering in front of Stiles, almost like he was prepared to shove Stiles behind him at a moment’s notice. He relaxed, however, when an imposing black guy opened the door. “Deaton,” Derek said, sticking his hand out.

The guy shook it before stepping back to let Derek in and looking hard at Stiles until he followed. “Think you’ve been gathering some trouble, kid.”

“Both of us,” Derek said. “And kid? How young do you think I am, Deaton?”

Deaton grinned and tugged Derek into a hug. “Good to see you in one piece. I’ve had hunters hovering for the last few days, though.”

Derek stilled and looked through the open archway that led from the hallway to another room. “Here?”

A girl with long dark hair stepped into sight and Stiles watched uneasily as Derek stumbled a few steps towards her and stopped. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to warn Deaton.” The girl grinned and her eyes flashed red. Then Derek was hugging her tightly. “What’ve you been up to, baby brother?”

The tips of Derek’s ears flushed red as he glanced over to Stiles. 

His…sister made a grimace. “Not- Victoria Argent?”

“He didn’t do that!” Stiles interrupted. “Or, me, but.” He ignored the look that Derek was sending him. “He didn’t kill Victoria Argent.”

“Well,” Deaton said. “Who did?”

 

Stiles felt a huge sense of relief when he saw the road snaking across the expanse of grassland they were tramping across, breaking out of the trees to the east. He knew it meant civilization and the chance of getting back to his dad. He also suspected that it meant the possibility of food, water and a rest for his feet. He pointed it out to Derek who looked at him a little patronizingly.

“Just because we don’t all have super senses, Mr Big-shot Werewolf.” Stiles knew he was whining as he looked longingly at the paved surface. It would have to be easier to walk along than the knee high grass which seemed able to cut through his jeans.

Derek huffed out something that might have been a laugh. He didn’t even have the grace to look like the fast paced trek he was insisting on was having any impact on his breathing or muscles. He just looked good whereas Stiles was convinced he looked like a hot, sweaty gross mess.

That was when Stiles spotted the convoy of SUVs. “Hey! Cars! We’re rescued!” He was about to head down the hill when Derek pinned him to the ground.

“We don’t know who they are.” Derek’s body was covering Stiles and Stiles was hella grateful he was facedown. Because otherwise Derek was going to know what having a hot, sexy, gorgeous man holding him down was doing to Stiles’ entirely teenage body. He was fucked up because it felt so damn good.

Stiles obediently lay there, willing his half hard dick to calm down as he watched the cars come to a stop. Derek stiffened when a woman stepped out, her blonde hair blowing in the light breeze. He flattened Stiles even further to the ground when a man climbed out of his vehicle. Stiles eagerly went.

“That’s the guy who was with my uncle,” Stiles said, voice barely above a whisper. “Argent.”

“Chris Argent. The blonde is Kate. And the redhead-“ Another woman, holding a rifle like she knew how to use it, leaned up over the roof of the car and said something. They were way too far away to hear but Stiles could see her mouth moving. “The redhead is their leader, from what I can work out. Victoria.”

“Keeping it in the family,” Stiles muttered. He wasn’t sure what the best course of action was but the fact they had guns and that Derek was keeping him down and out of sight suggested not moving was a good idea.

There was a roar that echoed along the empty road and up over the grassy slopes. Stiles startled as Derek buried his face in between Stiles’ shoulder blades. His hands tightened over Stiles’ arms, enough that Stiles could feel claws starting to prick through the thin material of his t-shirt. Stiles opened his mouth to ask Derek what was wrong but had to shut it as he saw something out of his nightmares leap from the grass on the other side of the road and attack the woman Derek had identified as Victoria.

It only took one swipe of its claws to disarm her and leave her arm lying bloody and useless by her side. The creature roared again, its jaw distending nauseatingly wide, the thick black hair on its chest rippling with the effort. Then it chomped down, teeth tearing a wide and gaping wound in the side of Victoria’s neck. The others were reacting now, grabbing guns and aiming, but the monster was too fast, for all that it looked out of proportion and wrongly put together. With a powerful leap, it sprang off into the woods. Stiles caught a glimpse of it, black against the long grass, as it dodged the spray of bullets following it.

The incident took no more than seconds.

Derek kept his face buried in the back of Stiles’ neck but Stiles couldn’t look away from the blood and gore flowing freely down the woman’s side. Chris abandoned the pointless firing of his gun, came around the vehicle and helped the woman to sit on the ground nearest Stiles’ vantage point. They seemed to be talking, desperately, then they kissed. Victoria’s mouth was bloody when Chris pulled back. Then he helped her hold his gun and fire a bullet through her heart. Her body slumped against him and Stiles wanted to throw up, gorge rising almost unstoppably. It was only the anchoring presence of Derek that kept Stiles from recklessly getting up and running as far away as he could.

The hunters didn’t mess about, loading Chris and Victoria’s body into the back of one of the SUVs and driving away at speed, leaving the pool of blood and the tire tracks as the only evidence they’d been through.

Stiles thought he and Derek had got away with it until they realized hunters were still tracking them and had ended up trapping them on top of a huge boulder for most of a day and a night. Stiles guessed they were just lucky they hadn’t been caught. He could do with more luck like that. Luck that had led him to cross paths with Derek.

 

"I don't know if it was a rogue. But it was definitely personal, whoever it was." Derek tapped his fingers on the table, frowning. "There was something almost familiar about him. About it."

Derek's sister, Laura, nodded slowly. They all sat around Deaton’s dining room table as Derek finished telling the others what had happened. Stiles filled in some of the gaps, explaining what he had been doing in the woods. Derek had turned Stiles’ dead phone over in his hands while Laura went to hunt for a suitable charger. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Stiles, glancing away whenever Stiles caught him looking.

Laura returned with a spaghetti of cables but managed to get Stiles’ phone up and working. They all hovered over him while he sent his email. “I should call my dad.”

“You should have done that already,” Deaton murmured, holding out a landline. Stiles took it and followed him to a spare bedroom at the back of the cabin, nodding when Deaton pointed to the bathroom. Stiles could feel his skin itching under the dirt.

His dad listened carefully as Stiles told him everything that had happened. He only got choked up when he was telling Stiles how worried he’d been. He also ordered Stiles to stay put until he arrived to take him home.

Stiles felt like he wouldn’t manage to walk another step when he ended the call. He slumped onto the bed, only rolling over when he saw Derek appear in the doorway. Derek had showered. Stiles knew this because Derek was wearing a towel. And only wearing a towel. And he couldn’t get his brain to move beyond the fine trail of hair leading from Derek’s impressive abs down into the waistband of the towel.

Stiles hated the towel.

“I should shower,” he muttered, trying to get up the energy to move.

“Is your- Did your-“ Derek leaned against the doorway and looked down the narrow hallway. Stiles thought he heard Laura laughing for a moment. “Is your dad okay?”

“Yeah. He’s coming here. With warrants.” Derek looked startled for a moment. “He’s a sheriff,” Stiles explained. Derek didn’t relax much and that forced Stiles off the bed. “I told him you’re one of the good guys. No murder accusations, dude.”

Derek’s face did something complicated at that and Stiles vowed to call him ‘dude’ as often as he could until Derek stopped him. Preferably with his mouth against Stiles’. Derek nodded, finally. “Go shower. You stink.”

“Thanks.” Stiles wandered across the hallway. “I hope you left me some hot water.”

“Of course I did.” Derek watched him, again. “I wouldn’t want to sleep with someone who hadn’t had a proper hot shower.”

Stiles wondered for a moment if he’d heard correctly, but the way Derek’s eyes were raking up and down his body suggested that, no, Derek had indeed put the whole idea of sex on the table. Or the bed. Or, you know, in the shower. Stiles started to cock his head and Derek came down the hallway to pin him against the wall. Stiles went entirely too willingly. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” Derek said, his voice rough. “But then you’re going to shower because I’m going to need a bed to take you apart properly.” His hand traced the curve of Stiles’ jaw before he moved in for the kiss. Stiles let him. He even let Derek shove him into the bathroom afterwards.

They still had a lot to do, what with the hunters after them, a rogue killer werewolf on the loose and his dad coming to help. But Stiles wanted nothing more than to live in that moment of delicious anticipation for a long, long time. That was, of course, until he came back to the bedroom and saw Derek stretched out, waiting for him. Anticipation could go to hell.

**Author's Note:**

> So I had all these plans and they involved pirates. But all I wanted to do was focus on Derek and Stiles lying all tangled up and hiding, just like Davie and Alan Breck. There are pirates in this story somewhere, they're just hiding too. Sorry.
> 
> Also sorry for the fact this is basically a story outline and not developed in detail. Because I ran out of time. Sorry again.


End file.
